Ease My Mind
by KT the Shimmer Skank
Summary: A glance into Spike's post syndicate, preBebop days. The trials of love, life, and bounty hunters. Complete.
1. Chapter One

Author's Note: This story takes place after Spike leaves the syndicate, just before meeting Jet. I've always wondered what it would be like if Spike could ever love anyone after Julia. This is how I imagine Spike to have felt after leaving the syndicate and being abandonned by Julia; it's basically about starting over. Hope you enjoy; interpret it for what you will. Please review.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop or anything that goes with it.  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
Samantha opened her eyes; pale blue light surrounded the bedroom. Rain was beating on every wall and resonating throughout the room. She looked over at Spike. When he was awake, he never allowed her to enjoy too much sentamentality. But now, as he slept, Samantha leaned in close to him and took in a deep breath of him. She lightly brushed her fingers through his hair and whispered, "I love you." His nose wrinkled as he dreamed. There were occasions when looking at Spike's face made Samantha want to cry. It pained her to love him, to look at someone who could look back at her so frigidly. It seemed, though, as if not loving him would be even more painful. He stirred, stretching out his arms. He looked up at Samantha, and for one brief moment, he appeared to be genuinely happy. He stroked his fingers softly down her bare shoulders. "What's for breakfast?" he asked groggily. Samantha sighed; it would be another day, just like any other.  
  
Spike stared out the window at the falling rain while Samantha cooked breakfast. He attempted choosing individual droplets, and then following them with his eyes until they splashed their remains onto the ground. His eyes never strayed from the window, even when Samantha brought him his plate.  
  
"I'm leaving for work now," she said. Spike didn't move. "So I'll see you later today, okay, Spike?" He at last grunted in acknowledgement. Samantha sighed and walked out the door.  
  
* * * *  
  
She returned several hours later, to find Spike sprawled across the couch. A small shot glass sat on the coffee table within his reach, half full. "Spike..."  
  
"So I've got a bounty on my head," he said non-chalantly. He picked up the glass, took a quick drink, set it back down. "They showed a big picture of my mug on Big Shots today. The syndicate must really want to see me dead."  
  
"Are you going to be all right?" Samantha asked.  
  
He laughed. "Have I ever been all right?" he asked. He looked her in the eye; he didn't glare or appear to be angry, but she still felt his glance pierce her with cold. "I'm not worried. I knew they'd try to hunt me down; I'm not as easy to catch as I look."  
  
"I know," she said softly. She sat on the couch; not too close, but within reaching distance. "I know how hard you are to catch." She placed his hand on his face and smiled weakly. He looked away. After living with her for three months, he had grown tired of her sympathy, her sentamentality, her wanting gaze.  
  
He had not intended on staying. In fact, he could not figure out why he had even come in the first place. His lonliness, perhaps, had finally caved. His eyes were enchanted by long legs, soft skin, chocolate hair, and more than anything temptuous blue eyes. He supposed that on that night, a rainy and most unbearable night, he was able to forget his angst for long enough to seduce the beautiful Samantha; to throw aside sorrow and broken love, and simply give in to craving. However, Samantha proved to be more than just an object of desire. He tried to be rid of her, but she kept persuing him. She kept haunting him with her love and affection until finally he gave in. It was just too easy to accept the comfort of having Samantha always there. Always close enough to touch, if he so desired, and always close enough to push away.  
  
Over time, she sickened him. He was tired of her. He was tired of being alive. She was always there, hovering, reminding him that was alive. It was something he didn't want to remember. He didn't want to remember that he could be loved. Julia had run from him; if Julia couldn't love him, why did it matter if anyone else could? He was bored with the predictability of Samantha's affection; he was sick of those walls and the window through which he watched the world every morning.  
  
He looked back at her; she was waiting patiently for him to reply. She was always so patient. Her soft hands were placed neatly on legs crossed in tight blue jeans. Her skin and hair were wet. He was suddenly sucked in by her eyes. They were the same color of the blue-grey rainy skies outside. In her eyes, he saw images of what had happened months ago. He saw Vicious's eyes, which had gone cold; he saw himself, standing in the rain; he saw Julia. He saw all of these things that he couldn't escape, buried in this girl's eyes. Rain, pouring from her eyes. No, not rain. Tears. Samantha had begun to cry.  
  
"What happened?" she asked, choking on tears. "Why are you so cold?"  
  
"I..."  
  
He leaned into her, wrapping his hands around thighs and abdomen, softly kissing her neck.  
  
"Stop, Spike," she said. "Talk to me! Please just talk to me! I can't stand not knowing!"  
  
"It'll be okay," he said. He didn't even know what the hell he was saying, but for some reason it felt true. "We're going to be okay."  
  
"I can't keep this up any longer..." Samantha wanted to fight him; she wanted to stand up to him and finally make him open up to her. But she was too afraid to let him stop. The feeling of fingers and tongue on her flesh was too tender, too loving for her to give up. So rarely was Spike ever so loving. She let Spike love her, or perhaps only pretend to love her, while the rain went on and on outside. 


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO  
  
  
  
By morning the rain had subsided; sunlight broke through the curtains. Samantha woke up early again, smiling at Spike as he slept. She slipped into some clothes and twisted her hair in to a comfortable lump on her head, and emerged out onto the streets. Another morning, another breakfast, another day. Another opportunity to fall deeper in love. She stepped over puddles and walked through the warm streets to the market. Her hands reached into a wooden crate and fished out an orange. She held it to her nose and smelled it. She handed her money to the vendor, and as she collected her change she felt a cylindrical object pressed hard into her spine.  
  
There was a man hovering behind her. "Don't say a word," he said through gritted teeth. "Just walk with me."  
  
He maneuvered her down the street with his gun, keeping her close to him. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" she asked angrily.  
  
"Now, now, don't get tense," he said. "I'm Lew, pretty thing, and I don't want anything at all from you. I just need you to take me to Spike Spiegel."  
  
Samantha's eyes grew wide. "What do you want with Spike?"  
  
Lew snickered. "Let's not beat around the bush here, lady. I mean, you're not stupid. Your boy Spike is a wanted man, you know that." Samantha gave him the coldest of all stares, but said nothing. "So let's head home, okay, hon?"  
  
"You're a damned fool if you think I'd hand Spike over to you," she muttered.  
  
Lew shrugged and flashed a crooked, toothy grin. "Oh, so it's one of those things, eh? You must not be as bright as I thought, to fall for a guy like Spike."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Lew's face wrinkled into a vicious snicker; however, in moments it melted into a cringe of pain. He felt a wave of liquid punches slamming into him.  
  
"Spike!" cried Samantha.  
  
Lew fell hard onto concrete. Spike grinned as the bounty hunter stood up and wiped his bleeding lip. Lew raised his fist to punch; ran straight at Spike, then ran straight past Spike, then kept running on to the end of the road where his ship was waiting.  
  
Samantha ran into Spike's arms.  
  
"I guess it's a good thing I ran out of cigarettes," he said. "Or I probably wouldn't have even got out of the house at all today."  
  
Samantha was shaking, breathing hard. "He was going to come after you, Spike."  
  
"Yeah. Bounty hunters can be a real pain in the ass."  
  
She grabbed hold of loose folds of her hair and clenched her fingers tightly around them nervously. "What are you going to do, Spike?"  
  
"I haven't really decided yet." He wrapped his arm around her and lead her down the sidewalk, strolling casually as if this were an ordinary problem. The sun was positively shimmering over the city; over corners and alleys which had long been darkened. The rays sparkled on Samantha's earth-toned locks and illuminated her ever-depressing eyes. Spike noticed that even when the sun lit her up as it did, her eyes could still be so sad. Or perhaps he was only seeing a reflection of his sad self.  
  
He reached into his pocket and tore open a fresh pack of cigarettes. Samantha rested her head solemnly on his shoulder as he walked and smoked. That girl; he often wondered what the hell he was doing with her. 


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE  
  
Jet Black busied himself making repairs to his old fishing ship. Soon, he thought, the ship would be completely transformed into the Bebop. He listened to Big Shots as he worked, keen to find a new bounty head.  
  
"And here's our newest bounty, amigos." A picture and reward flashed on the screen. "Spike Spiegel, and he's worth this comfortable bounty."  
  
"Geez, he's kinda cute to have a bounty on his head. What did he do?"  
  
"He's wanted for the kidnapping of a young woman."  
  
"Gosh that's bad! Well, he can kidnap me anytime."  
  
Jet looked up from his task and observed Spike's photograph. "Hmmm..." he thought aloud. "He doesn't look too tough. And the bounty's just enough to pay for the last of the repairs." He grinned and went back to work; he would soon begin his search for this harmless kidnapper.  
  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
  
"I hate you, Spike Speigel!" Samantha screamed.  
  
Spike sighed. How long had she been going on like that? At least an hour, he was certain. "Then let me just add you to my list, okay?"  
  
She flung up her arms. "How can you... How can you POSSIBLY joke around like that?"  
  
He shrugged.  
  
At that point, he had even forgotten what the huge fuss was even about. Samantha was scared, and when she got scared she got angry. He was never quite sure what she was so scared of, though; he had strayed so far from fear that he could no longer empathize with the emotion. There was no fear in him, only despair.  
  
"Maybe we just need a break..." he suggested idly. "We should take trip somewhere. Let's drive out to the beach today."  
  
"What about that bounty hunter? Everyone's looking for you, Spike!" She rested her hand against his cheek. "What's going on? Can't you just tell me what's the matter?" She looked pleadingly into his eyes, and kissed him.  
  
He pushed her away. "Look just forget it. Why the hell do you care?" He turned his back to her and went over to his window. He lit a cigarette and watched the clouds move through the sky.  
  
* * * *  
  
When Samantha returned from work the next day, Spike was gone. An empty shot glass was left on the coffee table beside a tall bottle. She dropped onto the couch and sighed as she filled the glass. She held it in her hands for a few moments, swishing around shiny amber liquid, but didn't drink. She set the glass back down and cried.  
  
Spike, meanwhile, whistled as he strolled down lively streets with his hands in pockets. He lived in a beautiful town. It was filled with a jubilant energy that he had not seen anywhere else in all of his life. This was a place where people went to settle when they had everything figured out. This is where people went when they were ready to live a happy life. It was obvious, of course, that this was no place for Spike. Memories still weighed him down to such an extent that he could hardly stand the beating of his own stone heart.  
  
"You don't seem yourself, Spike," Vicious had told him one cold evening.  
  
"Yeah, that figures. I don't feel myself," Spike had responded. "The cold weather never puts me in the brightest of moods."  
  
Vicious nodded. "I can understand... Although, the cold has never bothered me much." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver necklace. He smiled sarcastically at it. "What do you think of this? I picked it up the other day. I thought it would look nice on Julia."  
  
Spike looked at the necklace, saying nothing.  
  
Vicious's eyes met with Spike's; there was a moment of searching; of wondering, of knowing. "Do you think she'll like it, Spike?" Vicious asked darkly. Spike was left to wonder, why does he draw this out? Does he know? Vicious's glance was piercing.  
  
"It's great," Spike answered at last. That was when things had begun to unravel months ago.  
  
It was not so long ago that that conversation had occured. It seemed to Spike to be forever. It seemed to be only hours. He had now made his way into a public park. He sat down on the first bench he found, for it was too troubling to try and walk and reminisce at the same time. He placed his hands over his face; such thoughts were exhausting. There was a light clicking noise by his ear.  
  
Jet Black stood beside him, holding a gun to his neck. "Spike Spiegel, am I right?"  
  
A bounty hunter. Spike grinned. 


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
"Come quietly, won't you?" said Jet in a sly, chipper voice.   
  
Spike stood up from the bench calmly, put his hands in the air, and smiled mockingly at the man with the gun. "There's just never a dull day in this town, you know that?"  
  
"I'll take your word for it." Slowly, they made their way through the park.  
  
Spike glanced over at the bounty hunter, noticing that he had one mechanical arm. "Nice hardware you got there."  
  
Jet glared at his prisoner. "And how is that any of your business?"  
  
"It looks pretty heavy. I was wondering if it ever weighed you down."  
  
"You were, eh?" Jet gripped the gun tighter and pressed it more forcefully into Spike's back, reminding him who was in control.  
  
Spike grinned, laughing softly, and before Jet's mind could even register another thought he felt a powerful blow to his stomach. The bounty was off in running within a blink. "It's not nearly as heavy as it looks!" Jet screamed as ran after his prey with determination.  
  
Spike slowed to a moderate jog, careening into an alley and feeling fairly confident as his antagonist screamed profanity in hot pursuit. Jet's yelling grew louder and Spike was surprised to see that he was right on his heels. The bounty hunter held his gun and dove around corners, following Spike with considerable ease.Vaguely, Spike noted what an intriguing guy this was; he had an old-school, classic gun-slingin' style that couldn't go without being admired.  
  
Meanwhile, Jet wiped drops of perspiration from his forehead as he struggled to capture his bounty. He weaved through crowded city streets with liquid ease; the guy was like pure water. Clearly, he had under-estimated the bounty.  
  
Spike pulled ahead, gaining an impressive distance between himself and the bounty hunter. It was more difficult than he had expected, but he had finally broken free from the chase. He was fairly certain that the man wasn't on his tail any longer, but he looked over his shoulder just to make sure. There was a sudden thud as within seconds of turning his head he crashed into someone on the sidewalk.  
  
As he stood up, he grimaced to see an unfriendly but quite familiar face staring back at him.  
  
"You thought you'd gotten away from me, Spike Spiegel!" howled the rather excited bounty hunter, Lew. "But I've got you right where I want you now! I'm the greatest bounty hunter on this side of the galaxy, you know!"  
  
"Is that a fact?" Spike muttered, taking off down the street yet again.  
  
To make an unpleasant situation even more so, Jet had caught up to him. Spike was now slipping through the late afternoon market crowd with two exasperating bounty hunters on either side. He leapt over a cart of apples, nearly plowing over an old gypsy woman. "Sorry about that!" he cried on the run, taking a bite of the apple he had smoothly smuggled from the cart. He tossed the core over his shoulder and hit Lew in the eye. Lew fired his gun at Spike, causing a great commotion among the market-goers.  
  
Samantha at that time had meandered into the market, milling through merchants of fresh fruit. She heard the gun shots and gasped, looking over heads to catch a glimpse of the action. She was more than surprised to see Spike running down the road, followed by two incredibly angry men.  
  
"Spike?!" she cried, with eyes as wide as the market's grapefruits.  
  
"No time, Sam," he yelled as he passed her.  
  
Spike turned a sharp corner and ducked into a run-down tavern. There was a group of sleepy, inebriated, middle-aged thugs sitting at a table in the dim tavern, which Spike greeted warmly. "Hey, fellas."  
  
The most gruff and drunken of the group grunted at Spike. "What's you doing in this part of town Spike?" he said.  
  
"Well, I heard about the cops busting your operation last week..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Just then Lew and Jet burst through the door, stirring up the dust which had settled over the bar and its occupants. "I just thought I'd let you know that those are the two guys who tipped the cops off." The group of men immediately directed glares towards Lew and Jet with a blood-curdling anger. Spike nodded with sincerity, slapping the old man on the shoulder and darting out the back door, knowing that the two bounty hunters would be occupied for awhile.  
  
He circled back around to the market where Samantha was waiting, awestruck. Without saying a word Spike grabbed her by the hand and lead her quickly down the road.  
  
"Spike, where are we going?" she asked, struggling to find more words.  
  
"Out of this town," he said simply. "Things are getting a little dull here, don't you think?" He looked over at her, still catching his breath. "I'd say it's time for a change." 


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
She left her store behind, left her home behind, left her city behind. She had left everything she had ever known behind, and followed Spike; she knew she would always follow Spike, even when she knew she was following him into a hole.  
  
In their new, much smaller apartment, Samantha could not sleep. She sat on the floor beneath the window, wrapped up in cotton sheets, watching the stars outside. Spike was sound asleep, of course, and his arm hung off the side of the bed. "Julia..." he mumbled.  
  
Julia. The name that Samantha loathed. Spike always spoke it in his sleep. You could even see him mouthing the word occasionally when ever he was lost in thought by his window. "Julia" was the only clue Samantha had to Spike's past. It was a word that itched at her curiosity, drove her mad with wondering. It was one of few pieces she had to the intricate puzzle that was Spike.  
  
The name, she knew, plagued Spike's mind just as it did hers. Every time she looked into his cold, mis-matched eyes she saw the word Julia consuming him. There were dark secrets that ached in every crevice of his skin; she knew he was tapping into the last of his reserves to find the strength to carry the weight of it all. There was that darkened part of Spike that Samantha knew she could never reach, and it killed her. She tried so hard to be the strong one, to give Spike something, anything, to cling to. But he would never falter. No matter how much pain he felt inside, he would never sink so low as to lean on someone else's strength. He refused to let anyone else carry his weight.  
  
She reached over and held Spike's hand; she looked over at his face, covered in starlight, and smiled with sad eyes.  
  
She had not meant for him to stay. Before Spike had come along, Samantha had created an orderly, predictable life for herself. She had very clear ideas of what she wanted and what she did not. One morning, however, when she found herself motivated to cook breakfast for the man named Spike, who had slept that night in her bed, she began to feel that all she wanted was him. It was so typical for her to want something she could never have, to love something that couldn't be loved.  
  
She was not nearly as foolish as Spike might have believed her to be. She knew that Spike's heart would never melt in her hands. She wasn't waiting for him to change; she was not in anyway lying to herself. Even with all of himself that he held back, and even with all the cruelty he possessed, she was still able to accept him for what he was. She could not understand why she loved him, for he had almost nothing to offer her. He only caused her pain; she, in turn, only stirred up the anguish that Spike was trying to bury. Everything that they were was wrong, and neither of them could save one another. Samantha would never give herself a hope that didn't exist; she knew that Spike would never make her happy, and that she could never ease his pain. She knew that it wasn't love that kept the two of them together. It was comfort. They were two people who had nothing else in the world to hope for but each other. It was easier to just stay, than to face everything else that was waiting to disappoint them.  
  
In his dreams, Spike was unaware of the things Samantha was feeling. He was surrounded by dreams of his grand escape from the syndicate. Leaving the syndicate was easy. Slipping through the fingers of vicious criminals, turning his back on those who trusted him, hiding from all of the ones who wanted him dead, and living with the endless fear of someone on the hunt for you were all quite simple for a man like Spike Spiegel. Escaping Julia was what seemed to be so hard. Her memory was so overwhelming that it consumed every thought and dream in his mind. He had found no peace since the day he had lost her. As he slept fitfully that night, he was completely oblivious to the things Samantha felt as she watched him, just as she was unaware of the pain inside his dreams.  
  
There was that darkened part of Spike that Samantha knew she could never reach, and it killed her. 


	6. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX  
  
The morning was dreary. Black clouds suffocated the sky as a storm threatened to ensue. When Spike opened his eyes, Samantha was already awake and busy cooking breakfast. Even after all that had happened, even now that they lived in this new place, the comfort of Samantha cooking breakfast was still there. It represented normality and predictabilty. It was one instant of calm in a lifetime of chaos.  
  
He slipped out from beneath the sheets and walked softly into the kitchen. He crept up behind Samantha and wrapped his arms around her waist as his kissed her bare shoulder. She almost gasped, for it was unlike Spike to wake up in a good mood.  
  
"Smells good," he said, peering over her to see what was atop the stove. He let go and went over to the couch. He picked up an empty pack of cigarettes and frowned. "Shit. I'm out of smokes." He threw on some pants and a shirt and headed out the door.  
  
As he strolled down new and mostly unexplored city streets, a wave of disgust swept through him. Why?! he screamed in his mind.   
Why did he still cling to Samantha's warmth? Why did he continue to hide from the world?  
  
"I want to get out of here," Spike had told Julia one evening quite some time ago.  
  
"We are getting out of here," Julia had replied with a puzzled chuckle. "We've only made a pit stop. We're leaving tomorrow." She ran her fingers through his already touseled hair.  
  
Spike shook his head impatiently. "That' not what I'm talking about. You know it's not."  
  
Julia's eyes dropped. "I just don't know what to say when you talk like this."  
  
He moved in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders, so that he could look right into her eyes. "Wouldn't you leave with me?" She looked away from him. "Julia, wouldn't you?"  
  
She slowly brought her gaze back to him, lining up her eyes with his. The space between their eyes was like a vacuum. Absolutely nothing could escape it.  
  
She never did answer him.  
  
Spike went into the local corner store, paying for his cigarettes without a word, and left. He didn't talk to the people of the city like he did in his last home. This new town was different. It wasn't a place that everyone went to when they had it all figured out. It was more like a place that people went to hide. This was the place where people to be alone, to suffer. He stopped in his tracks, lighting a cigarette and looking around at the dismal streets with disappointment.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Thanks, man," said Jet to a helpful old man seated on the corner. For a few days Spikes' trail had gone cold, but Jet, ever the hunter, had picked it up again and was right on his tail. He turned the street corner and was shocked to see his bounty standing all alone in the middle of the sidewalk. Jet crept closer, but Spike still gave no indication of moving. There was almost no thrill to the catch when Jet yanked Spikes arms back and held the barrel of his gun to Spike's spine, for it was all too easy.  
  
Spike felt the jerk of his arms and the pressure of the gun, but didn't bother to move. "You again," Spike said flatly. He was no longer motivated to fight and to run. He figured, if the syndicate wanted him so badly that they would dare put a bounty on his head, then so be it. There was nothing worth saving at that point, not even his own soul.  
  
As Jet escorted Spike to the ship, there was a monstrous crackle of thunder, and the rain beat down on the world just as it had promised. 


	7. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Rain beat down. It pounded against the walls of the Bebop and caused a metallic ring to resonate throughout the ship. Sitting there, tied to a chair in his damp clothes while Jet Black was busy hovering over a hot skillet, was a rather surreal experience for Spike.  
  
Whatever Jet was cooking, it smelled heavenly. The aroma of juicy beef and fiery bell peppers crept out from the steaming skillet and rested beneath Spike's nose. His stomach growled. He thought back to the breakfast Samantha had been making for him, which he hadn't had a chance to eat. Samantha. He wondered what Samantha would do when Spike never came back from the store, how she would react. She would probably cry; she cried over everything. She would be better off, but she would be sad. Did he even care? No. He convinced himself that he didn't. But then... why was her face so prominent in his mind?  
  
"You know," said Spike. "Since I've been so cooperative, you'd think I was worthy of last meal, eh?"  
  
Jet paused, and then grunted in reply. He divided the skillet's contents onto two plates and set one of them in Spike's lap. He loosened the bonds just enough so that Spike could use his arms to eat.  
  
"You're a life-saver, man," Spike told him in thanks. "I mean, not really, but I haven't eaten anything today." He put a morsel of food to his mouth, though the movement was awkward due to his restricted arms. It was almost better than Samantha's cooking.  
  
Jet looked over at his prisoner with curiosity. He had changed since their last meeting; he was totally devoid of motivation. He was still cocky and smart-mouthed, of course, but he had somehow lost his spark. Jet looked up at the clock; he noted that the engines would be ready in about ten minutes.  
  
Spike noticed that he was being watched. "It's okay. I'm not going to try and run. You caught me, fair and square."  
  
Another grunt from Jet. Finally, he formed words. "So, why have you changed your tune since the last time I saw you? You didn't seem like the type who would go down without a fight."  
  
"What's it matter to you?" Spike asked in a low mumble.  
  
Jet shrugged. "Just curious. Just passing time."  
  
There was quiet; it would have been silence if it weren't for the rain outside. Spike didn't have to tell this guy anything. Yet, he felt like telling someone might be exactly what he needed to do. "It's just this woman. I gotta get away from this woman."  
  
"A woman?" Jet wondered if it was the woman he had kidnapped.  
  
"Yeah. I'm just so sick of her always being there, and always being sad. I'd rather face my past than keep on going with her."  
  
It sounded like a girlfriend, not a victim. Jet couldn't see anything that connected this guy to crime. "Hmmm," he responded.  
  
"I never could leave before. I hadn't even meant to stay in the first place. It was just so hard to leave, though. At least I'm gone now... even though I'll probably end up dead."  
  
Jet had no response; he knew that it really wasn't neccessary for him to say anything. He turned on the TV to break the awkward silence.  
  
"Howdy, all you bounty hunters!" cried an obnoxious voice on the television. "We've got some ster-ange news for you today."  
  
"That's right!" agreed another, squeaky voice. "It seems the bounty on Spike Speigel has been dropped." She sighed. "What a relief, he's such a cutie!"  
  
"Our new and hottest bounty is this lovely lady." A picture came up on the screen. "Well, happy hunting, pard'ners!" Click. Jet turned off the TV with a look of utmost shock on his face. Then shock curled into confusion, and confusion into frustration. He had wasted all those man-hours for nothing.  
  
Spike continued to stare at the screen, too many thoughts running through his mind for him to process at once. It was Julia. The bounty head was Julia. He was so angry and miserable and overwhelmed that it simply made him numb.  
  
Julia had left the syndicate. After all the fussing she had gone through on the subject, after all the fear she had shown about leaving, she left. More specifically, she left without Spike. His heart froze up as the reality of it sank in. Her love for him had not been strong enough for her to overcome her fear of leaving, and yet... Only a few months later she had found something that seemed worth leaving for. He didn't know what had motivated her to leave, he only knew that it wasn't him.  
  
Had Julia ever loved him? The question would forever plague him. He could hardly think or speak or move, it was such a piercing blow to his already frozen heart.  
  
"Well, uh..." began Jet, untying the ropes that held Spike, "I guess there's really no reason for you to hang around, eh? Heh heh." Spike nodded absent-mindedly and let himself be escorted off the ship. Jet gave him a wave and shut the hatch to the Bebop.  
  
It was still raining. He walked on towards his apartment, apathetic to the fact that he was soaking wet. After all the many questions Spike had asked himself that day, he could now only focus on one. Had Julia ever loved him? Had Julia ever loved him? It rang like a siren in his brain. He steps quickened, making a sploshing noise on the wet sidewalk. Then he sped it up to a jog.  
  
Suddenly he was running, splashing through puddles, trying to escape that haunting question. 


	8. Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
Spike's breakfast was cold on the table. Samantha sat at the table, numbing herself from thought. Her own plate lay before her, untouched.  
  
She didn't know where he was. She tried hard not to think about where he might have been. In a typical situation, one might find it strange if someone had left to buy a pack of cigarettes, and then didn't come back for several hours. This wasn't a typical situation, of course. Samantha was quite unsurprised by Spike's disappearance. It was just another one of the ways that he played with her mind. He seemed to have the incredible talent of making her fall deeper in love with him, while still making her wish she had never met him. Each day, it seemed, he came up with new ways to torment her heart.  
  
She picked up the two plates of food and tossed them carelessly into the sink. She could always cook more when, or if, he came back.  
  
* * * *  
  
Splosh. Splosh. Puddles were thrown out of wack as Spike sprinted through them. He entered his building and went up the stairs to his apartment; he flung the door open and paid no attention to the sink full of broken plates and cold breakfast. He walked over to the window. It wasn't as big or as scenic as the window in their last apartment, but at least he could still see the rain. It pounded mercilessly against the glass and the earth. Like the wild rain outside, Spike could feel drops of water pouring from his eyes.  
  
He no longer felt motivated to take another breath. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. There was no use in trying to carry on with his life, no need to persue anything close to normality. Even if there was sunny, pleasant weather for a few days, it would still rain again eventually. The ghosts of his past would always come back to weigh him down, even if happiness occasionally seemed within his grasp. The syndicate would always hunt him, and Julia would always haunt him.  
  
He unlocked the window and push it open; water sprayed all over him and into the apartment. This apartment was much higher up than their last one, he thought. Much higher up. He crawled out onto the ledge, watching the world go by beneath him. Had Julia ever loved him? The question seemed pointless at the moment. For a brief moment, Spike felt a rush of freedom. Up on that high ledge, Julia couldn't get to him. On the ledge, the syndicate could never find him. Bounty hunters would never chase him. There wasn't a single person who could get to him on that ledge  
  
"Spike!" screamed Samantha.  
  
His body went frigid. He did not dare turn to face her. There was no way he could stand to look at her sad eyes just then. She was a weakness to him. A barrier between his past and his future. He wanted so badly to be free, but it was just too hard to leave her. She continued to scream from within the apartment; she ranted and raved as she often did when she was scared. He tuned her out and only listened to the rain.  
  
Leave me alone, Samantha, he thought. It was not cold or angry. It was almost a plea. The rain could not cover up her cries anymore; he heard distinctly what she was saying. "I love you, Spike." She screamed it over and over again. Don't say that, he cried to himself. Just tell me you don't love me. Tell me you hate me. Let me end this pain for both of us.  
  
He jumped. He could hear Samantha's screams go silent. The whole world around him went silent. He was just another raindrop, falling towards the earth. He thought of only one thing as he fell. Only one thought raced through his mind until everything went black.  
  
He had not meant to stay.  
  
He had not meant to fucking stay! 


	9. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE  
  
Blackness. Spike could hear voices and noises of all kinds buzzing around him, but for the longest time he was surrounded by total darkness. He was dead, he knew, but he was quite confused. In all of his many dreams, he never imagined death to be blackness like that. He had also not expected to be left with his conscience after he died. He sat in the dark, forced to sort through everything that had happened. He wondered vaguely if he was supposed to be pondering all of his sins during this time, in which case he would remain in the darkness for quite awhile.  
  
Through the blackness, he saw the tiniest slivers of white light. He could feel his body again; he felt twinges of pain as he tried to move. The light grew stronger as his eyes opened. The light became color, and gradually shape. A woman's face hovered over him. Julia? he thought. His instincts told him that it was, but as his vision grew clearer he knew that it wasn't. Even as a dead man, he could recognize those sad eyes in an instant.  
  
"Sam..." he croaked. He felt dizzy, as though he was slightly intoxicated, and didn't know up from down. He took a moment to gain control of himself and his situation. He looked around; he was lying in a dingy hospital room. The wallpaper was peeling, and the room had an unpleasant aroma to it. There were no furnishings to the room except for the bed, a wooden chair in the corner, a small table, and various medical machines. It certainly wasn't heaven, but it didn't feel much like hell, either. He reached out with what he assumed to be his fingers and felt for the soft skin of Samantha's face. It was real, which meant he wasn't quite as dead as he thought he was.  
  
"How are you, Sam?" he asked, clearing his throat and sitting up as much as he could.  
  
Samantha looked for a moment as though she wouldn't answer. "I'm fine. Considering I've been in this shitty hospital room for three days."  
  
"Three days?" Spike looked mildly surprised and scratched his head. "I guess I did take a a bit of a fall."  
  
Samantha nodded, looking very far away. At last, she looked Spike in the eye. "I'll... I'll go get you something to eat." She gave his hand a good squeeze.  
  
"And some smokes," Spike added before she was out the door. It didn't occur to him that cigarettes might be slightly hard to find in a hospital. When she left, he relaxed again beneath the off-white sheets. It had been such a long fall. And yet, here he was, alive as he had ever been.  
  
That bitch, he thought to himself. I can't even die with her around. Stupid bitch. Always getting in the way of what's best for me.  
  
He tried to imagine what she must have felt, watching him fall through her fingers to the pavement. Once his feet left the ledge, he was finally untouchable. In all the time he had known her, she was always trying to reach him. Fighting her off had tired him. But no, when he threw himself to gravity, he was finally in a place where Samantha had no chance of reaching him.  
  
Was that why he had jumped? To escape Samantha? He distinctly remembered thoughts of Julia driving him out the window. However, now that he lay there in the hospital bed, he could only think of Samantha. The woman with chocolate hair that hung lightly beside her sad, sad eyes. The woman whose touch was warm enough to melt any man.  
  
He hadn't meant to stay. He hadn't expected that woman to grab a hold of him the way she did. He didn't want to melt; he didn't want anyone to warm his heart after Julia. He was a raindrop, and raindrops were supposed to fall. Raindrops weren't supposed to be plucked out of the air by women with sad eyes. They weren't supposed to be nurtured and have their breakfast cooked for them. No one's supposed to fall in love with a raindrop.  
  
"Here you go," Samantha said. She brought in a tray of mediochre hospital mush and placed it on the table beside Spike's bed.  
  
"Thanks," he mumbled. There was a cold silence. He stared into her eyes, her frigid blue eyes that always caused him so much pain. He tried to make sense of the ache he felt in his heart; he tried to understand why Samantha hurt him so.  
  
"Why, Spike?" Samantha asked suddenly. Spike's stream of thought was broken as he heard her speak. He noticed a tear sliding down her cheek. He found himself unable to make a sound. Samantha continued. "I've spent three days trying to figure out why you did it, and I've come up with alot of different reasons, but..." She choked back tears and tried to collect her thoughts. She swallowed hard and looked confidently at Spike. "I guess if I can't come up with a solid answer for why you would jump off a fucking building, than I don't know you as well as I thought I did. I don't really know you at all, do I? You know everything about me, and I don't know a damn thing about you, Spike! I've given you everything, and I've never gotten anything in return! Nothing! And the funny thing is, I never expected anything. I willingly gave my soul to you, knowing that you were that ass that you are. And now, here I am, sitting in this damn hospital..."  
  
"I love you," he muttered almost inaudibly, without looking at her.  
  
Samantha froze. "You... what did you say?"  
  
He looked up, and gazed into her eyes again. There was still pain, but he let it fill up inside him and welcomed it. He took her hand and brushed his lips lightly against it. He held it to his face, letting the warmth of her smooth skin comfort him. He gently pulled her closer to him, kissing her collar bone and twisting his fingers in her unbrushed hair. "I love you. I love you so god damn much..." His voice trailed off, and he embraced her. He held her tightly, as if she might escape. He wondered in awe how he had not lost her already.  
  
Samantha stiffened, baffled by his warm embrace. He had always pushed her away; now he clung to her as if he needed her more than anything in the world. Samantha had always been completely honest with her feelings for him, but until that moment he had never told her he loved her. Her mind swam through confusion, pleasure, and hurt.  
  
"Marry me," Spike said. "I know I'm an asshole, but marry me."  
  
She broke away from him. Tears poured down her soft face, and her eyes screamed sadness more than they ever had. "What? You just jumped off a building, Spike. You tried to kill yourself. And now you want to get married?"  
  
He grinned. "I'm spur of the moment kind of guy." He held his hand to her face, breathing her presence in deep. Had Julia ever loved him? He might never know, he thought. But Samantha loved him. She loved him, despite all the pain he caused her; she was so patient with him, even when he fought like mad to escape her. Just knowing that she was nearby was enough to ease his aching mind.  
  
"No, Spike."  
  
His heart plummitted. He squeezed her hand tightly.  
  
"I don't want to be Julia's replacement. I need to be loved for what I am, Spike."  
  
He looked away coldly. "You don't even know, do you? I love you for EVERYTHING that you are! I need you, Sam. And I've never needed anyone before!"  
  
Samantha was crying uncontrollably. She was suddenly hearing all the things she had wanted to hear, yet they didn't feel the way she'd imagined. She was pathetic. For three months she had fooled herself into believing she didn't love Spike. She was only with him because it was convenient, she told herself. The bare truth was that she had fallen insanely in love with him.  
  
She leaned in, combing her fingers through his impossible hair. She took a deep breath, savoring a far too familiar scent, and kissed him gently. "I could marry you," she said. "And I could comfort you. I would always be there for you, Spike, you know that." She sniffed and wiped her face. "But I can't. I can't make your pain mine. What if I'm the one who needs to be comforted?" Spike said nothing. Samantha sighed and reached into a large bag that was sitting beside the bed. She pulled out a newspaper and tossed it into his lap.  
  
"What's this?" he asked, picking it up.  
  
She opened it up to a page for him to see. At the bottom of the page was a photograph of Spike, lying unconcious on the sidewalk. It was titled, "Local Man Commits Suicide."  
  
"When the newspaper reporter came the other day," Samantha explained, "I failed to tell him that you had, in fact, survived the fall. You're dead to the world now, Spike. I guess those people from the syndicate or whatever won't be hunting you down anymore." She brushed her hair out of her face and stood up. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "You can leave whenever they say you're well enough. I'll take care of the medical bills."  
  
Spike stared at the newspaper in mild shock. He laughed, although it was pained and bittersweet. "You shouldn't have let me stay, Sam."  
  
Samantha paused in the doorway. "I know."  
  
"Why did you, then?"  
  
She turned her head, taking one last look at the man who had changed the entire course of her life in only three months. "It was raining that morning, remember? I didn't want you to have to walk home in the rain." 


	10. Epilogue

Author's note: So this is an epilogue that I started writing, oh, about five years ago, for this, my very first fanfiction. I found it randomly, and I realized it was silly that I'd never finished it. It seems weird finishing it and posting it now after all this time has passed, but I'm bored… so here it is, for what it's worth.

-o-o-o-o-o-

There was pain. There was lots of pain, but during the many days he spent lying in a shabby hospital bed, Spike forced himself to sort through it all. What stood out most in his mind was what Samantha had done for him before walking out of his life. She had faked his death, making him free from the syndicate. She even covered all of the medical bills. She took care of him even in the last moments that they were together. She had ensured him the opportunity to start over. That was the grand task at hand, wasn't it? Starting over. It was so much harder than it sounded, even though his slate was now wiped clean. In his mind, admitting his love for Samantha was supposed to be the first step towards starting over. But it hadn't worked out the way he'd planned. She had walked away from him. She turned what should have been a new beginning into a deeper descent into darkness. Spike could not blame her, though. Samantha had done enough just by picking up the pieces. Now it was up to him to hold it together.

Maybe he just wasn't cut out for falling in love. Maybe there was only one woman for him. A woman long gone.

Aboard the Bebop, Jet Black had nearly forgotten his brief encounter with Spike Spiegel, a joke of a bounty who'd been a waste of time. He busied himself in the kitchen of his old fishing ship, preparing an omelette. He had heard nothing at all until he felt the barrel of a gun behind his head.

"What do you want?" Jet asked plainly, trying to keep his cool.

"Breakfast," the man behind him answered. Shrugging, Spike put away his gun and helped himself to a seat on Jet's couch.

Jet stared at him, bewildered and a little peeved. "Wha? You? Just what do you think you're doing, barging in here?"

Spike sighed and threw back his head, staring at the creaking ceiling fan. "I've been thinking a lot, Jet. Jet Black, right? I've been thinking, and I've decided I'm done with women."

Jet blushed and furled his brow angrily. "Hey guy, I don't know what kind of idea you gotta about me but…"

"Bounty hunter, right?"

Jet stopped, and laughed. He flipped the eggs the skillet. "Well, yeah, something like that. As soon as I can get the money together to finish putting those old sea bird back together, I'll be a lot better off, too."

Spike scratched the back of his neck, nodding. The life of a wanderer. A gypsy melody; a cowboy's ballad. A faceless hunter, an endless chase. It seemed like exactly the kind of thing he needed. "Well I think I could help you out with that one." As if it were the most natural and comfortable thing in the world to him, Spike reached for the remote control and turned on the TV.

"Yee-haw! We got some reeeeeal good pickins today for you bounty hunters!" Came the familiar call from the glowing TV.

Spike looked over at Jet. "What do you say? Let's finish this beast and blow this popsicle stand. Eh, pard'ner?"

Jet hesitated only for a moment. He didn't trust most people these days. But he kind of got the feeling that Spike didn't, either. He was just looking for a dollar and way to kill time. Jet knew all about that. He extended his hand to Spike, and with a single shake, their hunting days together began.


End file.
